Moments Like These
by Susan Bell
Summary: Something as simple as mistletoe can change a lot for two best friends. DannySam.


A/N: Writing a Christmas fic in the middle of July … wow. What exactly does that say about me? Lol. Well, anyway, hi! This is my first DP fic; I've only recently gotten into the series, and it wasn't until the episode where Danny and Sam have their cute little dance that I decided I NEEDED to write a ficlet for this. Maybe it's the fact that I have no life … right. So, anyway, just a little note: I'm not perfect at the characters, and I'm sorry if Danny and Sam have this Harry and Hermione thing going on. I've written so much for those books that they just sort of influence everything else I do. Especially Sam. I was reading over her parts, and she just reminds me of Hermione. Oh well. It's what happens when you're a devout worshipper of the Pumpkin. Reviews are much appreciated, considering how much I love feedback!

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Moments Like These

July 2004

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Christmas time. For the Fenton's, this meant an additional amount of ghost hunting more than it offered any holiday spirit. No pun intended, of course.

Danny Fenton was carrying the last of the presents down on Christmas Eve, bobbing his head up and down to a random Beatles tune. His parents felt that if the spirits of John Lennon and/or George Harrison heard their old songs on this lonely holiday, they might feel the need to visit the house in which song was being blasted. Tucker was in the kitchen, singing lyrics … or trying to, at least. You couldn't really call whatever Tucker was doing singing. Danny grinned a little, shifting Jazz's present in his arms, listening to his best friend.

"Jeez, Tucker, would you _be quiet_!" Jazz at last shouted from her room upstairs. Her reply was injured silence from the kitchen; and The Beatles dominated once more.

Jack and Maddie had taken refuge in their lab, watching eagerly for any sign that John and/or George had entered their house.

Danny entered the living room, and placed his present for Jazz under the large tree … covered in ghost detecting ornaments, of course. You wouldn't know it unless you knew the Fentons, however; except for the satellite-like dish that replaced the traditional star at the top of the Christmas, the tree looked just like any other.

"_Ooooh, I need your love, babe. Guess you know it's true_!" Tucker was starting up again; Danny rolled his eyes.

"Tuck, where's Sam?" he called, glancing up at the ceiling. Jazz had been irritable these past couple days, and he wanted to avoid anything that might set her off. Especially since it was Christmas Eve and they were all spending it together.

"Thought she was here!" Tucker replied. "_Hope you need my love, babe, just like I need you_!"

"TUCKER!"

Danny sighed.

"I'm right here."

He turned around; Sam was leaning against the doorframe, her arms folded, smiling at him. His stomach did a little flip at the sight of her; he frowned, not sure why that would happen. It was just Sam, just his best friend.

"H-Hey," he said, startled to hear his voice shake. Either Sam didn't notice, or she didn't want to comment.

"Sorry, your parents saw me in the house and dragged me down to their lab to examine their latest piece of work. Did your dad always have such a John Lennon obsession?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Sometimes, I wonder if Dad was the obsessed fan who shot John Lennon in his past life," Danny replied, running a hand through his already messy black hair.

"But you've got to consider when your dad was born," she pointed out.

"Well, that kills that theory, then."

"_We all live in a yellow submarine, a yellow submarine_!"

"Tucker, you are _so_ tone-deaf! And that's not even the same song!"

Sam's glittering eyes met Danny's, as a smirk crossed her lips.

"_A YELLOW SUBMARINE_!"

Danny swallowed hard, not sure why his heart was suddenly racing. This had been happening a lot lately, and always around Sam. He couldn't figure out why she would have this effect on him, though, after all these years.

"Are you okay, Danny?" Sam asked, now looking concerned, her smile gone.

"Yeah, I'm fine." He managed a half-grin, but couldn't look at her.

"You seem … kinda nervous."

Nervous? About what? What on earth did he have to nervous about? He was only talking to Sam.

"_WE ALL LIVE IN A YELLOW SUBMARINE_!" Tucker shouted, coming into the living room, so Jazz could hear him better. "Hey, Sam. Hey, Danny."

"Uh, hey, Tucker," Sam titled her head to one side, looking quizzically at Danny.

"Jazz's going to kill you," Danny told Tucker.

"It's Christmas," Tucker answered casually, turning toward the stairs.

"So, doesn't that mean you should be trying _not_ to annoy her?" Sam asked.

"If this were any other time of the year, I'd say yes." Tucker smiled, and adjusted his hat. He glanced over at Sam, and his eyes widened as he spied something on the doorframe above her.

"Uh, I'll leave you guys here for a minute," he said, giving Danny a thumbs-up before retreating back into the kitchen.

"What was _that_ about?" Danny asked, running his hand through his hair again. Sam looked up at the doorframe.

"Uh …" she said softly.

A small sprig of mistletoe had been taped above Sam's head.

Danny thought for a moment his heart that had stopped beating altogether. Mistletoe … what did you do when someone was underneath mistletoe? He couldn't think straight; his brain suddenly felt as though it had shut down, leaving him alone.

You kissed the person underneath the mistletoe, of course. That was the rule.

Dizziness hit him, and he forgot to take in his next breath. Kiss Sam … why was his stomach being so ... so … so like a _dolphin_, doing these stupid flips inside of him? The tips of his fingers tingled at the thought of it.

"Haha," Sam said; but now she seemed like the nervous one, and she bit down on her lip. "Like it means anything, right? It's just a dumb tradition."

But she wouldn't look at him; kept her eyes carefully fixed on the floor.

"Yeah … dumb tradition," Danny said vaguely. He really _did_ want to kiss her, though. That was weird. He'd only felt that way about girls he liked.

Did that mean he liked Sam? How had that happened?

She let out another little laugh, rubbing her arm, and still looking at the floor.

Well, actually, she did look pretty cute standing there like that. A little flush had crept into her cheeks. He had never seen her like this; it was nice. More than nice. Something he couldn't put a name to.

He had crossed the room to her before he was aware he moved at all. Sam looked up, her eyes wide. She had freckles running over her nose, he saw. Why hadn't he noticed that before?

"Danny …" she trailed off, her lips parting a little. He took her hands into his own, lacing his fingers through hers. Had she always been shorter than him?

Sam blinked, staring up at him, finding it increasingly difficult to breathe.

"Well, um … you know the rules," Danny managed to say, trying to grin in an easy, cool way – the way Dash or any of those other guys would if they found themselves in a situation like this. Not with _Sam_ of course; the idea filled Danny with a jealous fire. Why there was jealousy in the first place confused him as well.

"Uh … yeah," Sam agreed, looking down at their intertwined hands. Danny drew in a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. His hands were trembling … or was it her hands that were shaking? He couldn't really tell. Maybe it was both. How weird. Why would she be shaking? What did she have to be nervous about? Come to think of it, why the heck was he so scared?

_It's just Sam. Just Sam._

Her eyes gently closed and she didn't breathe in the moment before his lips lightly touched hers.

An electric shock shot through him; he felt as though he was floating. Nothing in his fourteen years of existence had ever felt as right as this; letting go of her hands to wrap his arms around her slender body, pulling her against him. She sighed, her own arms finding their way around his neck. She felt as though she was flying away on a cloud, to a place where only she and Danny were allowed.

"Tucker, I swear, if you don't stop singing right now, I'll –''

"I'm not singing anymore!"

Jazz's voice, dangerously close. On the stairs. Danny noted it, but it didn't really register until Sam suddenly pulled away. She touched her lips, looking at Danny with wide eyes.

"Um …"

"Oh, hey, Sam," Jazz said cheerfully. Danny shifted his gaze from Sam, to Jazz, who stood behind his friend. She titled her head to the side, raising an eyebrow.

"Ooh, am I _interrupting_ or something?" she teased, not knowing how close to the truth she was.

"We were just …. um … talking," Danny said quietly, swallowing hard. Sam nodded, her cheeks now a flaming red, such a contrast to her usual pale skin.

"Ah." Jazz nodded, widening her eyes innocently. Tucker appeared behind her; he winked at Danny, who could only offer a weak smile in return. "Well, continue with your … _talk_, then. C'mon, Tuck, Mom and Dad needed help setting up in the kitchen."

"But your parents are downstairs," Tucker protested. Jazz seized his arm and dragged him after her.

"Doesn't mean they still don't need help," she said, glancing back at Danny, and smiling.

_Great._

Sam's fingers were still resting on her lips. She turned to follow Jazz and Tucker.

"Sam?" Danny asked, catching her hand. She winced a little at his touch, but looked up at him nonetheless. "Are you okay?"

"Never better," she said. "I think I'll see what I can do in the kitchen."

Danny let go of her hand, and watched her walk away.

"Sam?"

She turned around again, raising an eyebrow.

"You're just full of questions today, aren't you?" she said, with only a half-hearted attempt at her usual sarcasm.

Danny frowned. He wasn't sure why, exactly, he'd called out to her again. He didn't want to let her leave, because everything would change if he allowed her to exit the room. Something had just happened, and he wasn't sure what; but he was damned if he was going to let Sam walk away from him. He had to know.

"I've got this, uh, friend," he said. "And he's been having … pretty weird feelings toward his friend lately."

"Your friend should talk to his friend about those feelings," she said, clasping her hands together, not daring to hope.

"Yeah, but I-he wonders if there's a name for those … feelings."

"I see."

He stepped toward her, his already overworked heart pounding against his chest.

"It's … not friendship, not anymore," he said slowly, frowning a little, speaking as he moved closer. "It's something more than that now."

"More …?"

"He's read a lot about it, and it's kind of like the books, but it's different, too."

"Yes?"

He wasn't sure where to go from there; he still hadn't figured it out, entirely. But what he felt for Sam wasn't friendship. It was along the same lines as the tingly feeling he got whenever he'd seen a cute girl, or whenever he'd had a crush on a girl. But this was different. Deeper. Special. The books called it love; but that scared him. He was fourteen. Fourteen, according to everyone, was too young to fall in love.

Well, maybe for everyone else, anyway.

He didn't know what else to say, so he pulled her into his arms and kissed her again, holding her tightly, wishing he didn't have to let go, ever. Sam closed her eyes and kissed him back, her heart feeling as though it would explode. She hadn't even dared imagine this moment, for fear thinking about it would jinx it. But now … he was kissing her, with no mistletoe above her, sticking to no other tradition than following his heart.

Peeking around the doorway, Jazz and Tucker observed the scene with identical smirks.

"You," Jazz said to Tucker, "owe me twenty bucks."


End file.
